Volume One, Chapter 8: Entrusting Zhu Yuanzhang to Form the Cabinet, Liu Bowen Presents a Painting

“Your Majesty, I am truly advanced in years now, my eyesight dim and my mind muddled—I am no longer capable of easing Your Majesty’s burdens,” Liu Bowen said bluntly.

“Ah, you don’t know how heartbroken I was when I heard you had passed away. Without you, I lack someone to strategize and help govern the realm. I trusted that scoundrel Hu Weiyong too much—he nearly ruined the Ming Dynasty for me,” Zhu Yuanzhang cursed bitterly.

Hu Weiyong had once been the Prime Minister of Ming, a man of great ability. Yet, he grew arrogant and corrupt, forming factions to serve his own interests. Worse still, he colluded with Japanese pirates and remnants of the Yuan dynasty, even plotting to assassinate Zhu Yuanzhang.

Hu Weiyong claimed that a sweet spring had appeared in the well of his backyard and invited Zhu Yuanzhang to see it. Secretly, he was mobilizing troops at home, intending to kill the emperor. The palace eunuch Yun Qi, guarding the West Hua Gate, caught wind of this. He stopped Zhu Yuanzhang from going, pointing toward Hu’s residence, which aroused the emperor’s suspicion. Zhu Yuanzhang did not go.

Later, standing atop the imperial city wall and looking toward Hu’s mansion, Zhu Yuanzhang saw many soldiers hidden among the flowering trees. He dispatched troops to surround the mansion and arrested Hu Weiyong.

“Your Majesty established the Five Ministries, the Six Ministries, the Censorate, the Office of Transmission, and the Supreme Court. Each manages different state affairs, keeping one another in check so no one can dominate. All matters are handled by the court—a truly wise measure. With them sharing the burden, why worry about the governance of Ming?” Liu Bowen praised.

After abolishing the position of Prime Minister, Zhu Yuanzhang distributed the Zhongshu Sheng’s duties to the Ministries of War, Rites, Personnel, Revenue, Justice, and Works. The ministers of these six ministries were promoted to the second rank, directly responsible to the emperor. This effectively consolidated imperial power over the prime minister’s authority, while the ministers took on some chancellor responsibilities.

“You, Liu Bowen, even in feigning death, know what’s happening at court. I do not need a prime minister; I personally handle state affairs, but there’s simply too much to manage. I appointed four senior aides, all third-rank officials, to assist me. Yet, after just over a year, these four old men resigned one after another, citing age and infirmity as excuses. Now only I and my eldest son manage the government—it’s truly overwhelming. I have long been pondering your ‘Biscuit Song,’ eager to know the future of Ming,” Zhu Yuanzhang continued.

Back then, while eating a biscuit in the inner palace, Zhu Yuanzhang took only one bite before hearing the eunuch announce Liu Bowen’s audience. Seizing the moment to test Liu’s wit, he covered the half-bitten biscuit with a bowl, and when Liu entered, he asked what lay beneath the bowl.

Liu Bowen calculated silently and replied, “Half like the sun, half like the moon, once bitten by a golden dragon, now incomplete—this is indeed a biscuit.”

Zhu Yuanzhang was greatly impressed. From then on, the two engaged in discussions about the destiny of the Ming dynasty, which were later compiled into the “Biscuit Song.”

“That was just my old rambling back then, Your Majesty should not take it too seriously. But this Doctor Xia is from a future era—he’s not only skilled in medicine but also learned and promising. It’s best to heed his advice,” Liu Bowen said.

Xia Jingtian sighed; Liu Bowen was quite cunning, passing the difficult question onto him.

“Almost forgot, Doctor Xia, you come from over six centuries ahead—please tell us how to govern Ming,” Zhu Yuanzhang asked eagerly.

“In truth, Your Majesty, following the Song dynasty’s example, you could establish Grand Secretariats such as the Huagai Hall, Wuying Hall, Wenyuan Pavilion, and Dongge Pavilion to assist in handling state affairs. Then, set up the Wenhua Hall Grand Secretariat to tutor the crown prince. Each Grand Secretary would be a fifth-rank official but hold no real executive power—only the duty to ‘assist and advise.’ They would serve as your close advisers, with the ultimate decision-making still in Your Majesty’s hands,” Xia Jingtian explained.

This was the embryonic form of the Grand Secretariat, to be organized by Zhu Yuanzhang.

“Excellent! Excellent! This is a splendid idea. I shall arrange for it at once. I will richly reward you and have two hundred taels of gold sent over,” Zhu Yuanzhang said excitedly.

Xia Jingtian had already received a thousand taels of gold from the emperor, yet now Zhu Yuanzhang intended to grant more.

“Your Majesty, I have already received a thousand taels. Please let the two hundred taels be given to Elder Liu instead, so he may write his memoirs and enjoy his twilight years without financial worries,” Xia Jingtian said.

Sighing deeply, Zhu Yuanzhang knew Liu Bowen was a man of utmost integrity. Once serving in court, he had angered the emperor and had his salary suspended. He supported his family by selling calligraphy and paintings and now lacked even the means for medical treatment.

“I heard from the young lady that your daughter had to pawn her jewelry to pay for your treatment. Liu Bowen, living in such hardship, is a disgrace to me, Zhu Yuanzhang. This two hundred taels of gold are for you. Rest well and do not show yourself in public—let everyone believe that the brilliant Liu Bowen has already passed away,” Zhu Yuanzhang waved his hand and left.

Soon, the two hundred taels of gold were delivered to Liu Bowen.

“Ruolan, this was secured by Doctor Xia and the emperor; you should thank him quickly,” Liu Bowen said, moved.

“Thank you, Doctor Xia. This gold ingot is a token of my gratitude for saving my father,” Liu Ruolan said, presenting a gold ingot.

In ancient times, the fee paid to doctors was called “Xi Jing,” a refined term for consultation fees.

“I lack no wealth. If you wish to give something in return, I humbly ask Elder Liu for a calligraphy piece,” Xia Jingtian said.

Three days later, Liu Bowen recovered and gifted Xia Jingtian a landscape painting.

Liu Bowen’s landscapes were unique, adept at capturing the spirit and essence of mountains and waters, vividly portraying nature’s grandeur and tranquility. His paintings featured overlapping peaks, swirling mists, and babbling streams, full of life and vitality. One felt transported into the scenery, sensing nature’s marvels and profound serenity.

Xia Jingtian greatly admired the painting.

Liu Bowen also gifted Xia Jingtian a collection of rare medical prescriptions, documenting various remedies.

Liu Ruolan took Liu Bowen away from the clinic, which returned to its usual quiet after Ma Empress and Zhu Xiongying recovered.

Yet, this peace was soon shattered.

One day, Xia Jingtian was in the small courtyard, picking cucumbers and tomatoes to prepare lunch. Suddenly, the clinic door was pushed open, and in came an old Taoist priest dressed in a robe stained with blood. His eyes were dull, clouded with cataracts.

Xia Jingtian recognized him immediately.

“This is a medical clinic. I seek a doctor’s help,” the old Taoist bowed respectfully.

“This is a clinic. May I ask your title? Anyone who can enter here is not unknown,” Xia Jingtian replied.

“I am the head of Wudang, Zhang Sanfeng. I suffer from an eye ailment and humbly request you to bring me in to see a doctor,” Zhang Sanfeng said politely.